A Collection
by j'adore macabre
Summary: Collection of ficlets written on tumblr. Hannigram prompts. Rating is a general T for predicted blatant violence. Contains mpreg, A/b/o verse, and whatever other kinks prompts I'll probably fill later.
1. Chapter 1

"You're still here, Abigail?" Hannibal's voice was quiet as he closed the large psychiatric manual he had been briefly reading over.

Abigail sat on the second tier, legs crossed and arms folded on the railing. She stared down at him with tired eyes, a brightly colored scarf tied around her neck to hide the thick scar.

"You can't keep sneaking into my office," Hannibal continued. "It's becoming rude." He turned in his seat to turn his complete attention to her.

"I was discharged today," she replied softly. "I didn't know where else…" She blinked rapidly, arms tightening as she seemed to shrink within herself.

There was a moment of silence before the doctor asked, "Have you eaten?" When she replied the negative, he rose to his feet and said, "Then I invite you over for dinner. Come, if you're ready we'll leave now."

"Wait," Abigail said quickly. "Can we invite Will?"

Hannibal shifted to his desk, adjusting his papers slightly. "It would be inconvenient to invite Mr. Graham. Too short notice, you understand."

"Please?" She looked at him expectantly like a child to their father.

The corner of Hannibal's mouth curled up in an almost imperceptible smile. "Very well."

Will stood in the doorway to Hannibal's house, his hands clenched at his side and his gaze fixed on the knot of the doctor's tie. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked. "Having me here seems a bit…too much."

"On the contrary, it would be beneficial for both you and Abigail to interact with one another. Besides, she specifically asked for this." Hannibal stepped aside. "You are already here; you might as well come in."

Abigail stood by the table, hands clasped in front of her. Will kept his eyes on a point above her shoulder.

"H-how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she answered. "They discharged me today."

"That's great."

"Yes," Hannibal added as he came to stand behind the profiler, less than a foot of space between them. "Abigail, if you could help me with the plates."

The young woman glanced between them. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?"

"I can help," Will said quickly.

Hannibal and Will set the table quietly, and the doctor reaching over to set down the saucer of Cumberland sauce, his hand brushing Will's. The profiler nearly dropped the plate in his hand and a blush rose to his cheeks.

"Excuse me, Will." The doctor's voice was low and he was so close that if either of them shifted the slightest bit they could touch again.

Will was just about to talk a step away when he felt a weight fall against his side and push him right into Hannibal's arms.

"I'm so sorry." Will heard Abigail say. Glasses askew and face red, Will was still pressed against Hannibal, breathing in the doctor's clean scent. He could feel the muscles of Hannibal's arm move as he put Will to rights.

"You are both alright?" The older man asked. When they nodded, he fixed his eyes on Abigail for a second and left for the kitchen with her following close behind.

"You mustn't do things like that."

She looked up at him innocently. "It was an accident." But he gave her a look that warned her not to lie and she sighed. "I was only trying to help, to say thanks." She looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "You both have been there after…after what happened. And I see the way you both look at each other."

Hannibal inhaled slowly. "Even still, it's impolite. Don't do it again." Abigail bowed her head dejected but when he gently kissed the top of her head, the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile. He said softly, "The effort is appreciated."


	2. Chapter 2

**Can you do A/B/O verse for Hannibal/Will? I'm a sucker for this trope however none of my prompt on hannibalkink has been filled. If you feel uncomfortable then I'm sorry :( Have a good day :)**

Will felt a hand tighten firmly around his arm and for a second his heart hammered painfully in the confines of his chest.

"Will?"

At the sound of his name rolling from between familiar lips, his heart calmed. He met Hannibal's eyes for the briefest of seconds before focusing on the doctor's lips.

"I don't want you going out, not until you've finished," Hannibal ordered in a low voice.

"But Jack—"

"I deal with him."

Will bowed his head and a blush crept into his cheeks. "Why…why won't you mate with me?"

With the omega suppressants affecting Will's mind, they had both decided it was best for their work if he simply stayed away from alphas during his heat cycle. How Hannibal had managed to keep himself composed was beyond Will's comprehension. In all the time they had been together, he never once went beyond a simple kiss during Will heat.

"I'm not…the best choice of a mate."

The hand on Will's arm tightened. "Enough, Will."

"But you're still here, with me," the profiler continued, "so maybe….I reconstructed your fantasies."

"Don't do that."

"We could do it. Anything you want." Will kissed him suddenly, roughly. He pressed hips to hips, not a space left between them. And Hannibal was kissing back with both hands gripping Will's arms tightly, a savage growl rising in his throat as he grew heady with the scent of him.

Hannibal turned Will around, pulling him flush against him. He bared his teeth and prepared to break skin, taste blood and love every inch of his Will.

But in a split second of clarity, Hannibal restrained himself and cleared his throat before stepping away. Will slid to the floor as he watched him leave, wondering if the lethargy of the suppressants was preferable to the sexual frustration.


	3. Chapter 3

**Anonymous asked you: Can you write about when Will figures out Hannibal is a killer? But they're already together. Thanks!**

"You…you lied. Everything was a lie." Will kept the kitchen island between them, the handle of the butcher knife held so tightly the blood leeched from his knuckles.

Hannibal splayed his hands on the granite counter top, careful not to make any sudden movements. Because every line of Will's body screamed anger but more than that was the fear and the hurt and disgust.

"You used me to get close to the FBI," Will continued. "You just wanted to make sure they didn't find out about you."

"That's not true. Think about it, Will," Hannibal said firmly with almost a hint of a plea. "I didn't need to invite you into my home or my bed to gain information. There was Crawford and Bloom who I could have easily used."

"You did this because you're sick," Will shouted as he waved the knife in unconscious emphasis. "You—You, you manipulate people. I needed you and you used that, made me need you. You alienated me from Jack, from Alana, Katz, Keller, Price."

"Because you needed me, Will," Hannibal replied. His voice rose slightly and his lip curled in the slightest bit of visible anger. "Jack and Alana would have you cowering in a corner, treating you like a fragile child and using you only when they needed you."

The doctor moved around the island. Even when Will held the knife out and the tip dug painfully into his stomach, Hannibal stood until there was little more than a foot of space between.

"Stop," Will demanded, his voice shaking. He rolled his shoulder and blinked rapidly in nervousness. "This only ends one of three ways."

"You kill me, I kill you, or what? You turn me into the FBI?" An eyebrow rose in question. "There is always the fourth option."

The profiler shook his head vehemently. "There is no fourth option. I cannot just…stand aside while you murder people. How many pictures of murdered people did I look through not knowing you put them there?"

"Four," Hannibal answered. "I did it to help you. You needed that push and I gave it to you."

Will looked disgusted. "I'm I supposed to be grateful for that? Am I supposed to thank you for killing for me?"

"Of course not. But know _why_ I did it. Will?" Hannibal's brow furrowed with worry as the profiler stepped back with a hand to his chest.

"I can't…I can't breathe. I think I'm going to be sick." But as Hannibal came close, Will stuck, fist to jaw before he sprinted for the back door.

There was only woods surrounding Hannibal's house, a stretch of woods that went on for over two miles. But Will ran as fast as he could, as far as he could only he collapsed to his knees with his head spinning and a vile taste of vomit on his tongue. He sat at the base of a gnarled oak and drew his knees to his chest as he held the knife close.

After a moment he could hear the crunch of leaves, but didn't bother to look up. Having run out in the cold air in only an undershirt and jeans and his heart pumping adrenaline, Will trembled violently.

"I am going to be added to your list? Are you going to bury me here, six feet underground with worms picking at my flesh?"

Hannibal removed his blazer to drape it over Will. "Never. You choose the ending, Will. Whatever you want."

"No, that's not fair. You can't put all of this on me. That's not fair."

"That's life's great flaw; nothing is ever fair."


	4. Chapter 4

**Anonymous asked you: I know it may sound pervert but since you have already wrote alpha/omega Hannigram then why not some mpreg? 3333 I would love to see Hannibal go over-protective and possessive when Will is pregnant and people come too close for their own good. "Special nutrition" is optional (well, you know what it is…). Lame prompt is lame but I'm happy being a shallow fangirl w)/ Plz forgive if you don't like this. Thank you so much xoxoxo**

Will swayed as he stood in the doorway to Jack's office, eyes closed as fatigue hit him like a sudden wave. He cracked his eyes open at the sound of Jack calling his name, saw the half eaten lunch on the agent's desk and promptly clapped a hand over his mouth as bile rose in his throat. He waved Jack's helping hand away and stumbled back out the door.

Hannibal was just turning the corner with a bottled water and Gatorade when he narrowly avoided a full on collision Will. The profiler sprinted passed him without a second glance, making a beeline for the restroom.

Hannibal took off after him though not quite so fast a sprint. They were alone in the restroom and Hannibal quietly locked the door as Will heaved into the toilet.

The doctor set aside the bottles and hung his blazer on the door before he knelt beside Will. His hand rubbed soothing circles on the profiler's back until the vomiting subsided.

"Sorry," Will murmured between spitting out chunks of returned breakfast.

"Never apologize to me, Will," Hannibal said firmly. "Besides, I suppose I am partly to blame for your discomfort."

Will sat back with a sigh, thankful that at least the bathrooms were decent. He took the bottled water Hannibal offered and rinsed the acidic taste from his mouth.

"What did Jack want from you today?"

Will gave a small shrug. "He never made it that far. Probably to look at more crime scenes."

"I'll ask him for the photos so you may work from home."

The profiler shook his head. "It's not the same. If I don't share the same space as the killer, if I don't see exactly what he saw—" He tried to stand as he spoke but his stomach seemed to do back flips and he was on his knees again, dry heaving in the toilet.

There was a sudden pounding at the door followed by Jack calling both their names.

"You should get that." Will hacked and spit during a brief reprieve before he was heaving again.

"Agent Crawford," Hannibal said as he unlocked the door. "If you'll be generous enough to us a minute."

"He told me." The agent gave him a disappointed look. "_You_should have told me, Doctor. I can give him time off until at least this phase passes, and, if he wants to come back, he's more than welcome."

"Duly noted, Jack," Will called from his stall. "But I'll be fine in a minute."

Jack tried to step inside but Hannibal's hand shot out to grip the door frame, his arm barring the agent's path.

"The time off would be greatly appreciated," Hannibal said quietly. "Will can easily work from home and I can pick up any documents he needs."

There was a heavy second of silence before Jack nodded once. "I'll have Price send you a folder. Tell Will I want his opinion on the burnt tissue."

There was a sudden influx of vomiting.

"I'm sure he's aware. Now, if that's all I'll take him home."

Jack left them alone and when Hannibal turned around he heard flushing and saw Will leaning against the stall with a hand on his stomach.

"I think I could go for one of your protein scrambles right about now."


	5. Chapter 5

**Please, some Hannigram with possessive!Hannibal and oblivious!Will. Fluff/crack or creepy, in fact anything will do :) Thank you.**

Will stood outside the police line, surveying the scene in a way only his morbid imagination could provide. After a moment, he blinked and seemed to come back to himself. Just as Jack stepped up to ask him what exactly he saw, Hannibal moved forward and stood between them.

"Everything's been bagged and tagged," Jack said to Will even as he cast a circumspect glance toward the doctor. "We can discuss this back at the office. My car's just over there."

"That's alright, Jack." Hannibal gave a polite smile tinged with danger. "Will and I will ride together."

"I wanted to discuss—"

Hannibal cut in, "It can be said back at the office. Maybe I can provide you with some insight as well."

Jack looked back at Will who was being hailed by Katz then gave the doctor a knowing look. "I'll see you back in my office then."

Before Katz could reach him, Hannibal put a hand on Will's back to guide him back to the car.

"Wait," she said. "I wanted to give you that file you asked for. If you've got a a sec —"

"We're in a hurry, Agent Katz," Hannibal answered for the profiler. "Thank you for delivering this."

Katz gave an expression of confusion. "But—"

"Until next time." Hannibal turned his back on her to join Will in the car.

"Maybe I should have gone with Jack," Will said softly. "Everything would have gone more quickly."

Hannibal looked at Will, dipping his head so that their eyes met for a brief second. "You're tired, Will, and I don't want you to exert yourself. I'm only looking out for your best interests, you understand?"

There was a second of silence before Will nodded and a small smile graced his lips. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully.


	6. Chapter 6

**Anonymous asked you: OMG I'm totally in love with your Hannigram ficlets (that's how it's called right?) especially the one with possessive!Han. Can you do some more plz? Or with creepy!Han because Hannibal is the definition of that word. Thank you so much :3**

At the sound of knocking, Hannibal opened the door to Will's house to find Alana Bloom staring at him in mild surprise. The door was only opened enough to see her face, and the doctor kept a leg between the door and frame to keep any dogs from running out.

"Good morning, Alana," Hannibal said politely.

"Morning, Hannibal," Bloom replied with a hint of confusion. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

Hannibal pushed the dogs back before he stepped outside, closing the door behind him to the collective whine of the small pack. "I came to check on Will last night. I called and, when he didn't pick up, I became worried."

"Is he alright?"

"As much as can be. I found him wandering the highway in the middle of the night. So, I'm afraid this has been a wasted trip; I gave him something to help him sleep."

She began to say that she could wait inside but Hannibal was staring so intensely that the hairs on the back of her arm rose and a shiver ran down her spine. "You'll call me when he wakes up? I'd really like a chance to talk with him." She asked.

Hannibal smiled and bowed his head. "Of course."

Will was just coming down the stairs as Hannibal came back in. He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes as he asked, "Did I miss something?" A fresh love bite peeked from beneath the collar of his undershirt.

"Not at all," Hannibal lied easily. "Come, I've made you breakfast."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sweat**

He was nose to nose with a corpse, head spinning and overwhelmed by the heavy scent of decaying flesh. Hobbs' lips brushed against the side of Will's mouth as he hissed "see", his fetid breath sending bile rising up the profiler's throat. Hands tightened around his wrists, cold to the touch and nails digging painfully into the tender skin.

"Will?" A soft voice cut through the black backdrop of his mind. He latched onto it, struggled to define it when everything was mutating and shifting to form greater nightmares.

The sound of hooves pounding the ground echoed through his dreams, raven feathers coming down upon him like rain. Another voice called his name. It was deeper and sharper so that Will could focus easier. The body, the feathers and the smell of decay faded and he cracked an eye open to be greeted by a harsh light.

"I fell asleep," Will murmured as he blinked owlishly, pushing his glasses up when he found them hanging precariously on the end of his nose. Having sunk deep into the chair, he pushed himself up and fixed his eyes on his knee to keep from meeting the other's stares.

Hannibal was kneeling before him with one hand on Will's arm while Abigail had his hand wrapped gently in hers.

"Are you ok?" She asked. "You look terrible."

"Abigail, get me a towel please," Hannibal commanded a little more sharply than intended.

When she left, Will turned his gaze to a point closer to Hannibal's eyes. "I saw Hobbs again. That hasn't happened for months."

"We can talk about it in the morning." Hannibal replied as he undid the other's shirt buttons.

"I sweat all over the chair again, didn't I?" Will shivered and finished unbuttoning the shirt himself, peeling the damp material off. Just as he was trying to remove his sopping undershirt with Hannibal's help, Abigail walked back in with a towel and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the sight.

Hannibal took the towel from her and ran it firmly over Will's damp hair. "Avert your eyes, if it makes you uncomfortable," he said with a slight teasing rise in his voice. He wrapped the towel around the trembling profiler.

When Will had left and Hannibal was wiping off the sweat with another towel, Abigail asked, "Does it happen a lot?"

"Most nights," he answered almost absentmindedly.

"I didn't know. He's lucky then you're here." She paused for a brief second. "It's weird; you remind me of my dad….Well, before he went…"

It gave Hannibal pause.

In the late nights filled with murmured promises, trembling frames and stale sweat, even when there had been hands gripping arms tight enough to bruise, Hannibal never thought of hurting Will. He was consuming Will in ways he never had with another being. He was tasting salty skin beneath his tongue and making a promise to keep his Will safe.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: These are all mine. I wrote all of these. Most are from prompts people have been kind enough to leave in my ask on tumblr. I'm just putting these here too so it's easier to go through. **

_**yumikire asked you: Here to leave you a prompt if that's ok. If not then just delete this I guess lol. Ummm either will sleepwalking to hannibal's office or even just falling asleep on the couch during a session, seeing as how he hasn't been getting much good sleep lately.**_

He had stopped talking several minutes ago. Now, Hannibal leaned forward with his elbows resting on his lap as he watched Will nodding in exhaustion. The profiler's eyelids were fluttering, struggling to keep open even as his mind sank into a half sleep.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, a fond smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "Will," he called loudly and the profiler's head snapped up. He fixed bloodshot eyes on the doctor's lips.

"Sorry," Will murmured as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I can't seem to get any sleep lately, especially after our angel maker."

"You see him in your dreams?"

Will shook his head. "The concept of dying in our sleep…his fears became mine for a time. It rattled me I guess."

"The things you see and these nightmares you have, it's only natural you should be afraid to sleep." Hannibal left the seat used during client visits and went to sit behind his desk. "This man, Budish, made angels to watch him while he slept. Who watches over you?"

"I'm no Budish," Will replied with a hint of disdain. He knew that by placing himself in the mind of killers he could lose himself to a point. But at his core, he was Will Graham, a man with imagination great enough to embrace murder.

"Of course not, but isn't it true that human beings sleep easier in the presence of someone they trust? Do you trust me, Will?"

The profiler narrowed his eyes. "You want me to sleep here? What about your other patients?"

"Fortunately, you are my last for the day. Such is benefit of having a private practice." Hannibal pulled out a handful of folders. "This way, you can get the sleep your body desperately craves and I can finish my notes. Take as long as you need."

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes were burning, screaming for sleep. So he nodded once and laid stiffly on the couch as he tried to calm his racing mind. But as Chopin's _Prelude in E Minor_played softly in the background and was accompanied by the rhythmic scratching of Hannibal's pen, the tension bled from his shoulders and he sank into a much needed slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hannibal=Hades, Will= Persephone. Can you write an Mythology AU based on this parallel?**

Will lay on a hillside overlooking the sea with a hand pillowing his head as he was bathed in warm sunlight. He closed his eyes and sighed with content.

It was the sound of hooves pounding the earth that brought Will back to the present, away from memories of trees bound with ivy and adorned with blooming flowers. At first, he thought it was another figment of his imagination but the noise grew to borderline deafening he opened his eyes to see an enormous horse barreling towards him, coat the color of midnight and eyes a flaming red.

Will sprang to his feet and tried to run but a hand grabbed him firmly by the collar of his tunic. The horse came to a sudden halt amid a shower of dirt.

"Hannibal," Will whispered, grasping the other god's wrist. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, wanting nothing more than for his bare feet to touch soft grass as he was held up by a strong hand. "Please, don't." But he already knew pleading was pointless.

The god of the Underworld was silent. He put Will on the saddle, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him there. Hannibal urged the horse forward with a touch of his heel.

Will was dropped before a throne made of spines and ribs. He stayed on his knees, head bowed as his breath came in a steady succession of clouds. Hannibal's footsteps echoed off the granite walls up to the high ceiling. When they came to a stop behind him, Will trembled.

"You could have anyone else," Will said quietly. "Why me?"

There was the rustle of cloth and Will felt a heavy weight draped over his shoulders. It was a deer pelt fashioned into a hooded cloak. Hannibal stepped in front of him and held out a hand. Will took it and rose to his feet.

"Be my king," Hannibal said. "Why waste away under Zeus when you can rule here with me?"

Will shook his head. "I don't want to rule the dead." He was seized by a sudden deep depression at the thought of spending eternity in the Underworld, away from warmth and life. "I want the sunlight and life, not this. You ask to much to throw away everything for what? It's dark and skeletons claw their way on the banks of the river Styx while souls scream in the ether."

Hannibal brought a hand up to lift Will's chin. "Spend a night with me. Make me taste life on your tongue and I'll take you back." He leaned in to press his lips to Will's and for a second Will was too frightened by the smell of decay to react. But then he kissed back, opening his mouth in invitation only to feel Hannibal's tongue carry something small with it. Will swallowed involuntarily, eyes wide when he recognized the taste of a pomegranate seed.

"You…you tricked me?" Will fell to his knees, trying desperately to vomit forth the seed but nothing worked. And his veins ran cold with the realization that there was no turning back, he would be forced to stay here after having eaten the food.

Hannibal knelt in front of Will, forcing their eyes to meet for a brief second. "I promised you all those years ago when I first saw you roam the plains in Sicily that I would make you a king alongside me."

"I'll die here."

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "Spend the night here, consummate our marriage and I will take you above."

"In exchange for what?" Will asked warily.

"You only have to spend a part of the year here, ruling with me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Anonymous asked you: My first time prompting anything on tumblr *is nervous* :) How about Jack finds out about Will and Hannibal's relationship and really, really doesn't approve for whatever reason? (Maybe he thinks Hannibal's taking advantage or something.)**

Jack leaned forward to clasp his hands on top of a stack of case files as he took a deep breath.

"I thought you should know," Will said quietly. "It doesn't effect our work but…"

Jack counted the seconds before he let out a steadying breath. "I'll be honest, Will, I don't like this. Entering into a relationship with Dr. Lecter is…risky."

"Risky?" Will's brow furrowed in confusion. "I expected different from you, Jack."

"Hear me out," Jack said quickly. "I just think that you've been spending a lot of time with Hannibal, using him as a support. With your…abilities I know that he has become something of a crutch."

There was a beat of silence. "You're saying I'm mistaking my need for him as affection."

"In so many words? Yes. This is me speaking, not as an agent or your boss, but as a friend. I'm worried what will happen when you two get too close and things go south."

"When? You think any relationship I have is going to be some horrible disaster, don't you?" He rose to his feet with shoulders tense in anger. "This isn't a crime scene, Jack. There's nothing terrible to study, no hidden motive."

"I never said there was." Jack took a breath. "You're both grown adults, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I just hope you found another psychologist to see."

"I'm not still mandated to go to therapy, am I?"

"Beauty sleep, Will. I need my beauty sleep."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thank you all for reviewing, I'm really gratefully. But I'm still trying to fill out requests in my ask on tumblr and I can barely keep up with those. I want to fill out all the prompts, barring anything outrageous, so if you have a tumblr send it there else I'll forget it. It's under the same name, same icon. If you don't have one and you REALLY want to send a prompt then send me a private message because, I kid you not, I have the memory of a goldfish and will FORGET.**

Interlocking his finger and reaching high in the air, Will stretched and gave a quiet groan of content. Winston trotted up as Will sat on the porch and laid his head on the profiler's lap to look up with big brown eyes.

"Oh, no, you're not getting out of it," Will laughed as he scratched behind the dog's ear. "Everyone's getting a bath today."

Winston made a noise that could have almost been taken for disgust as he left, tail high in the air.

Will set out the large basin on the lawn after lunch. The dogs whined behind the screen door, pacing back and forth. Perhaps it was with at the prospect of a bath or maybe at the black BMW pulling up in the driveway. Shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun, Will couldn't help the smile that came at the sight of who it was.

"I didn't know you were coming by," Will said as Hannibal came to join him in front of the porch. He dropped his hand to put it in his pocket.

"Is it a bad time?" Hannibal eyed the hose and row of shampoos.

Will shook his head. "No. No, I was just going to give some of the dogs a bath. Do you want a coffee?"

Hannibal brought up a hand to rest on Will's neck, tilting the other's head up with his thumb. "Did you sleep last night? Are your headaches worse?"

"I'm fine." Will stepped back and grabbed a bottle of dog shampoo. "Are you going to stay long?"

"Perhaps."

"Would you…would you stay the night?"

The corner of Hannibal's mouth turned up in a smile. "Of course." He unbuttoned his blazer and hung it on the railing along with his vest before he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

They knelt together with Winston between them, scrubbing him down in a fine lather of shampoo. Hannibal seemed to drift off, lost in the motions because he began to hum softly at first then began to sing under his breath.

_Ein Männlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm_

__"What's that from?" Will asked, gently rinsing soap from fur.

Hannibal blinked, just realizing what he had been singing. "Oh, it's…a song from when I was a boy." He rubbed Winston down with a towel. "My parents use to sing it often to us before they died."

"Us? You had brothers and sisters?"

There was a beat of silence. "A sister."

"You never told me that. What's her name?"

"Mischa." Hannibal cleared his throat. "She's gone, buried near our family's home."

"I'm sorry," Will said softly.

Hannibal rose and clapped his hands together. "I'll make us coffee then we'll finish with the others."

Will watched the doctor leave, scratching absentmindedly at the head of dogs following closely on his heels.


	12. Chapter 12

**Casdeanlvr4lyf:**

**Oooh ooooh me me. I would like to put in a request. Can you please make a serious h/c fic, where Will gets shot while on a case and he thinks he's gonna die but he's not. Hannibal is there to comfort him, and they both have mutual feelings for eachother but neither one thinks the other has feelings for the other. And one of them tells the other how they feel and then something happens between them. ;) ;) But make sure they're not OOC. I'm sorry if it's too confusing and a bit too demanding. And if you don't make it, I guess I'll have to deal with it *sighs* :( but I would be soo happy if you did ^_^ and I'll love you forever!**

Will's on the floor, hands pressed tightly over his abdomen and blood leaking out from between his fingers. Tears appear in the corner of his eyes.

Hannibal's pulling himself up by the kitchen counter. Blood plastered hair on one side of his head and ran to drip down his chin. Will's gun is in his hand. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air.

Jacobi, their suspect, lays dead on his kitchen floor with a well-placed bullet hole between the eyes. A wrench is clenched in one hand, a fillet knife in the other. Bits of brain matter scatter the floor. Just a few feet away, his victim, Maddox Cooper, sits at the table in a fresh shirt and trousers. He's a week dead at least and flies are landing on the corner of his mouth.

"Han…Hannibal." Will is gasping for breath. It hurts to breathe. Blood paints his lips from when he bit his tongue after the wrench connected with his rib cage to produce a muffled crack.

Hannibal takes an unsteady step towards Will and kneels. His eyes take in the deviated trachea, pale skin and blue lips. He doesn't mention it aloud.

Will's trembling all over, his head knocking repeatedly on the floor in a vain attempt to distract from the pain in his chest. His eyes catch Hannibal's. "Dying? Am I…?"

"No," Hannibal cuts him off.

Will presses his lips in a tight line, nostrils flare on the inhale and the exhale forces its way from between his lips in a wheeze. "I need…I need to tell you—"

"Your lung has collapsed." Hannibal got to his feet and swayed for only a second before he began tearing through drawers. He rather be named the devil before he lets Will go through a deathbed confession. "It has to re-expand."

They're deep in the woods of rural Virginia, a uncomfortable amount of time away from any ambulance. Will mouths a curse as realization dawns on him. "I'm interested….No, not right." Will breathed hard and fast. His vision was starting to go grey. "I wanted…to go out sometime?" And the pain is getting to him. He's actively crying now and his legs are jerking. There's no thought process, just words spewing sporadically from between trembling lips. "Make breakfast, lay in bed—_Damn." _

__Hannibal's hand lights upon a pen which he hollows out. He forces it between the second and third rib just as Will's hands slip from the wound and he goes still. There's a rush of air through the tube of the pen and Hannibal moves on the check Will's stab wound. It's just another memento for the work he does. It's deep, but miraculously misses vital organs. Hannibal's stomach gives an involuntary growl even as he presses his pocket handkerchief over the gash with one hand. The other goes up to ghost fingertips over stubbled jaw.

It was a terrible idea, he knew that, but even still, Hannibal thought of having another breakfast with Will. They would talk again in the light that filtered in through thick curtains because Will hated too bright mornings. But they wouldn't talk about work. And maybe he'd make bacon because he knew of man whose thigh would work perfectly. Maybe the bicep. Or maybe sausages again, with a heart ground in.


	13. Chapter 13

They're both bleeding; Hannibal from the nose after Will landed a punch and Will from the mouth when Hannibal's elbow connected. Will's on his knees with the sketch of_ Wound Man _clenched in his fist. His knuckles are scraped and bruised, courtesy of a missed punch landing on the bookcase.

"How did you kill Miriam Lass?" Will's lip curled up to reveal bloodstained teeth. His chest hurt.

Hannibal's eyes were fixed on those bloodied teeth and he wanted to kiss Will, taste the blood on his tongue. He took a step closer and Will leaned back until his back hit the wall. Hannibal held out his hand. "Give me the paper," he ordered, voice even.

"No. I put myself in the Ripper's mind again and again, trying to find out who he was. And it was you the entire time. You just watched me do it until I almost broke."

"You're being dramatic."

Will's eyes went wide with incredulity. "Dramatic? I couldn't sleep for days. I_ became_ Gideon, or at least who he thought he was. They nearly hospitalized me." He sat back and laughed suddenly. It was a manic, desperate laugh. "It's not like you care; you're a sociopath."

"Am I?" Hannibal asked with genuine curiosity. For the both of them, that word just didn't fit. Square peg, round hole.

They were quiet for several heartbeats. Will's jaw worked in a mixture of anger and fear.

"So, this is it then." Will finally asked. "I'm another Ripper victim, another notch in your knife handle."

"This isn't anything except an overactive imagination at play."

Will rose to his feet and leaned against the wall. "Don't lie to me, not now." He watched Hannibal meticulously roll up his sleeves. "You'll take my heart, won't you? That's just poetic enough for you."

"If you're so sure I am the Chesapeake Ripper why don't you call out for help?"

"I won't fight you, not on this. You played…a _great_ game, Dr. Lecter." Will felt a small victory at the twitch in Hannibal's eyes at the sound of his formal title. Will's mouth twitched up in the ghost of a smile. His eyes dropped to the floor and then back up. He stared at Hannibal, eyes locked for longer than he's ever held it before.

Hannibal pushed Will back against the wall, understanding what the other wants as his hand goes to close around the profiler's throat. Will wraps a hand around the good doctor's wrist as the other is pinned against the wall. He doesn't fight, he just needs something to hold onto.

Tears are spilling onto Wills cheeks, but he isn't crying. This is the intimate killing. It's not brutal and it's not quick, but it's something they're both morbidly content with. And maybe Hannibal's hands are like a vice, cutting off precious air, but Will doesn't think about that. When he thinks about those hands, he thinks about how gentle they were, how safe. During the madness, the sex, the nightmares, Hannibal's hands were nothing if not a safe harbor.

But Will can't think of much at the moment. His head is heavy and his heart pounds like a war drum in his ears. He wants to maintain eye contact because he wants Hannibal to be the last thing he sees, but his eyes are rolling up in his head. He doesn't mean to but he envisions bloodied lips, dead girls and a raven-feathered stag dropping to its knees, dying.

Then suddenly air is rushing down an abused trachea, and Will gasps and wheezes like a man on the brink of drowning just pulled from the water. Spots of light dance in his eyes and he can feel Hannibal's arms around him, holding him close.

"Sick son of bitch," Will chokes out, his voice grating. "I loved you."

His chest hurt.


	14. Chapter 14

**sheilapgr asked you: Amm, would be great one fluf, where hannibal realized that will matter much more than he thought, which is more than a game or a whim, and does not want to lose him. PD. I still love your fics! 3**

"This isn't…this isn't working," Will said as he massaged the back of his neck nervously. "I'm seeing things that I can't explain. Maybe I'm looking too long at murder victims and killers. I'm losing myself in other people's thoughts and my mind…It doesn't sound right though, does it? Breaking up."

Hannibal sat on the couch with a book of John Milton's poetry in his hand and the sound of Beethoven's _Aria_ playing softly in the background. He closed the book with a dull thud and set it aside. "We're together in every conventional sense aside from marriage. Call it a termination if it makes you feel better."

"Termination sounds too final."

"And break up too childish. What brought this on, Will? Was it Jack?" His head lowered and his eyes took on a hardened edge.

"Jack," Will repeated with a brief humorless laugh. "No. No, Jack thinks this is a terrible idea, tried to talk me out of it. I'm, uh, I'm going to leave, go down to Louisiana. It's quieter down there."

Hannibal stood and crossed the room to stop the music and pitch them into a heavy silence for a moment.

"Back to the place of your childhood," Hannibal said quietly. "Down there in the familiar boatyards of your childhood, you'll find no one to push you into the darker nature of your imagination."

"You don't push me."

Hannibal inclined his head. "Don't I?"

"I still don't think I could have lasted this long without you."

The doctor stepped closer to Will and put his hands to either side of his partner's face. "Again, you underestimate yourself. When do you plan on leaving?"

Will put his hands over Hannibal's. "End of the semester. So, in a couple months."

Hannibal hummed quietly before he placed a soft kiss on the top of the other's head.

"I'm sorry," Will gave Hannibal's hands a brief squeeze. "I can't stay here. It's getting too hard for me to look."

Hannibal opened his mouth to reply but went quiet as Will suddenly wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close. And they stood that way for awhile, Will holding on for dear life and Hannibal a quiet comfort.

As the minutes ticked by the doctor found himself quietly say, "I don't want you to leave."


	15. Chapter 15

_Thanks to everyone that reviews. It means a lot!_

_~JM_

_For rockndasha_

Will thought it was another one of his vivid imaginings when he dreamt of a cold wasteland, palms calloused by the hilt of a sword, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves on near frozen ground. He turned in bed, nothing but the sheet to cover him, and he found Hannibal staring back at him. The doctor's eyes shifted and flashed in the dim light.

Will opened his mouth, meant to call the doctor's name but whispered, "Tristan." Forgotten names, spoken so long ago they had become legend.

And for a moment it didn't quite click and then, like an atomic explosion, it did. They were hit with a myriad of sensations. Thoughts and feelings collided together, high speed trains on a collision course. Old and new combined in a mushroom cloud of morbid beauty and frightening brilliance. And yet it took no time at all.

"You haven't changed," Hannibal murmured in the oppressive silence as he propped himself up on an elbow.

"You...you're different. So different." Will stared in mild confusion as he tried to collect what pieces of himself he could. It was like assembling a two separate jigsaw puzzles, the pieces all mixed together. "Did you remember? Before?"

"No."

Will sat up and ground the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars. "How the hell did this happen? Why now?"

"I don't know," was all Hannibal could reply.

"You finally cut your hair." There was a beat of silence. "I remember this, lying next to you."

"I remember you biting my shoulder to keep quiet."

A quiet laugh. "I thought Dagonet was going to kill us for waking him." Will leaned over and kissed him suddenly, roughly until they were breathing recycled air.

Hannibal pulled back. "What was that for?"

Will pressed his lips in a tight line, the corner of his mouth going up in the hint of a sad smile. "Because I had to bury you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hannibal and child!Will. No underage plz!. I'd love to see some kind of wife husbandry tropes since Hannibal would be amused by Will's ability. Or AU where Hannibal was a lone vampire and one day he decided to raise a child to be his companion and Will was (unfortunately) chosen.**

_I went with the vampire because I haven't done anything like that before. _

_~JM_

Hannibal's walking along a side street with hands clasped behind his back. He runs his tongue over the razor points of elongated canines as he hums an Aria and he imagines great orchestras in outdoor halls that play during the day. For a brief second, his mind grasps at the idea of actual sunlight. It tries to recall the feeling of it on his skin and days when a hand held his. But it stops almost as quickly as it began. A dull ache, more a gaping hole, forms in his chest.

He shook off the feeling and was about to hum Vivaldi when his ears pick up the sound of splashing water. Hannibal almost ignored it, would have passed by if his hearing had not been so exceptional as to pick out a vaguely familiar sound. There came the sound of a half choked child, spluttering and retching as they struggled to keep their head above water. And it was his curiosity that got the better of him.

Taking long strides, Hannibal came to a halt at the lake's edge. But there was no more sound or signs of distress. Hannibal paced, lip slightly curled in a sneer at the sight of the water. He didn't fear the bite of an alligator or coils of snakes; the water, in this scenario, was his adversary.

But then small ripples came from the other center of the lake and he could clearly see the freshly broken boards of the old dock bobbing along. Leaving shirts and shoes behind, Hannibal entered the water to find a young boy stuck at the bottom, leg caught in part of the dock. He was still trying to claw his way to the surface but he was sluggish now and nearly spent of energy. Hannibal felt the boy's hand grip his tightly as he freed him. Nearly unconscious, the boy managed to wrap his arms around Hannibal's shoulders and let him bring him to the surface.

Hannibal laid the boy on the ground, waiting as he retched. He ran his tongue over his canines again, thinking of his hunger and how he easily could feed. But the boy grabbed his hand weakly. Eyes closed, he mouthed, "Th—thank you."

And Hannibal wrapped his jacket around the trembling frame and picked him up to hold him in his arms as he carried him home.


	17. Chapter 17

**Anonymous asked you: Can you do an evil angel Hannibal? Maybe he falls in love with angel Will**

"Will,"

Will shivers as his name rolls off a tongue familiar as time. That tongue had savored his name as reverently as it savored blasphemy, called it again and again from rooftops and back alleys.

Hannibal stood beside him on the rooftop, hands in his trouser pockets. He could have worn anything at all and yet he wore white. White shoes, white suit and a grace twisted to impossibly black that shone in his eyes.

"It's been a long time," Will said quietly.

Hannibal looked thoughtfully out at the skyline. "Time. Now, there is a human concept I never much cared for." He looked over at Will, the angel who was impossibly human. "Should we measure our time apart?"

"Over three hundred years," Will answered.

Hannibal took a seat and looked for all the world like the statue of Lucifer, devastatingly beautiful in his evil yet the touch of the angelic in his wings. And Will envied him then with his pristine figure and wings a deep blue while he stood with ruffled wings of grey.

"Fall then," Hannibal said, "if you covet my freedom."

Will shook his head vigorously. "No, you destroy for pleasure. You're…malicious."

"And yet you love me still."

Will looked down, a length of space and time separating him from the pavement. "Since creation," Will replied. "But that wouldn't mean anything to you."

"You think my admiration of devastation is greater than my love of creation." Hannibal's hand went up, his fingertips ghosted over the knuckles of Will's hand. "There are things far more beautiful in their conception than their death." He took a breath. "For instance, a fire is more beautiful than ash."

"Fire burns."

Hannibal leaned over the edge as if to fall. "I believe our time together is drawing to a close."

"Wait," Will said quickly. "Don't let another century pass."

Hannibal smiled softly. "Until next time, Will."


	18. Chapter 18

Jack. Alana. Abigail. They don't know it but he's scarred. Beneath those fine suits and polite smile, Hannibal has enough history behind his scars to fill a book. Some are ropy and pink, others thin and hard to see. And some scars aren't on the surface at all. Will's seen them when Hannibal's getting dressed, seen the well hidden ones in the cold stare reserved for things found distasteful.

Will kissed them once, those scars. In the heady afterglow of sex, he ghosted fingertips over pink and faded wounds, some better part of him wishing he could heal them. And Hannibal let him go on for a moment with a quiet hum rumbling in his chest. Then he held Will's hand with fingers intertwined, kissed the crown of his head and said, "Go to sleep."

"Kiss me first."

So, Hannibal pressed his lips to Will's. Wanting just a little more, Will traced his tongue along the doctor's bottom lip and he delved his tongue into Hannibal's mouth, feeling the scrape of teeth and a firm hand grasp his thigh. They could have gone again but Will wasn't asking for sex. He kissed Hannibal trying to taste old memories on the other's tongue and help soothe those wounds. It was a naive thought, and he knew it, but it didn't stop Will from trying.

Bare skin flush together and covered with a thin film of sweat, they were overwhelmed and underwhelmed with each other. There was an unbearable heat building and blood was rushing in their ears. Hannibal was barely hanging on, stopping himself short of biting too hard or gripping too tightly. Will was just trying to remember himself, but kept losing himself in heavy breaths and a talented tongue exploring his mouth. So, he held onto Hannibal, gripping biceps and feeling the muscles shift beneath his palms.

Then Hannibal is kissing him suddenly. It's not rough, just a trail of kisses along his neck with his name whispered in the quiet. Will tries to take the break to recoup but he can't quite slow his mind enough. He wraps a hand around Hannibal's wrist and uses the steady pulse as an anchor. And somehow, between Hannibal humming a light melody and Will tracing a faded scar, the profiler realizes that these reminders of old wounds are irrelevant. Hannibal is as he is because he wanted to be. And with the taste of the doctor on his tongue, Will accepted that.


	19. Chapter 19

_Thanks goes to everyone who reviews, I really appreciate it. And feel free to send me prompts if you like, but PM me or I'll unfortunately forget_

~JM

**Anonymous asked you:**

**Hello! I don't know if you take prompts, but If you find the time, can you please write a fic where everything becomes too much for Will and he tries to kill himself (slitting his wrists?) but somebody (Alana?) finds him and he wakes up in a hospital with Hannibal holding his hand just like he did with Abigail when she was in a coma and they talk things out and maybe Jack and Alana and Abigail come see him in the hospital... sorry this sounds so demanding. Thank you for reading! have a nice day**

He could hear them, the dogs, scratching and yapping fearfully on the other side of the bathroom door at the smell of blood. Blood that seeped from gaping wounds similar to mouths crying out like the screams of his imagined victims. It spread across the floor, soaking the bottom of his pants and filling his noise with its vague metallic scent.

His father's old pearl handle straight razor was still in his hand, though limply held. His thumb brushed the smooth and stained surface but he couldn't feel it. The tips of his fingers had gone numb and the sound of the dogs was dying out to be replaced by the slowing beat of his heart. His eyelids grew heavy and Will savored the disappearance of corpses reaching for him, of dead eyes staring at him.

Alana heard the wild howling of dogs from outside and her brow furrowed in a mixture of worry and confusion. Then she found herself running. Despite the churning of her gut telling her something was wrong, she found the front door open and went through the house calling Will's name with frantic hurry. Finally, she came to the bathroom and the door was closed but the faint smell of blood emanated from beneath the door.

"Will?" She hesitantly opened the door, a hand flying to her mouth to stifle a half cry half sob at the sight of a bloodied Will.

She fell to her knees, gathering Will onto her lap. Blood made her grip slick but she used her scarf to put pressure on the lacerations and, with hands violently shaking, managed to pull her phone from her jacket pocket. Will's eyes are half mast and he looks at her with a blank stare, lips moving without sound.

Will woke to the steady beats of the heart monitor. His arms were heavy and plagued with a burning ache and an intense need to scratch. In his hand was a warm weight. And when he opened his eyes, Will found Hannibal sleeping at his bedside. The doctor pillowed his head on his arm as he held Will's hand, the other hand resting on the profiler's leg.

At Will's awakening, Hannibal stirred. He glanced at Will with tired eyes before he sat up and took a heavy breath. But before he could even open his mouth, Alana was in the doorway, whispering Will's name with a conflicting mix of anger and hurt. She went to wrap her arms around his neck and smooth down wayward curls like a mother might.

"Alana." Hannibal rose to his feet and grasped her hand. "Please," he said as they locked eyes.

She pressed her lips in a thin line, wanted to object but gave Will's shoulder a brief squeeze before she left them alone.

Will swallowed against a dry throat, the inside of his mouth tasting of a long sleep and his tongue felt heavy. "Did I…?" He stared down at bandaged forearms but his mind moved too sluggishly to comprehend.

Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed but kept his eyes on the window. "A suicide attempt requires hospitalization until that person is no longer deemed a threat to themselves. But I'm certain you are aware."

"I wasn't…I don't want you to think…" Will blinked, feeling even more vulnerable without his glasses. "I can't tell what's real; I don't even know if this is. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Everything's mixing together, like it's all bleeding together and I can't….Looking is killing me."

Hannibal exhaled slowly, patiently. "I was available. You could have called, came to me. I would have come to you if you asked."

"You have other patients, other things to worry about."

"You think you're too much of a burden for me to worry over?" Hannibal met Will gaze for as long as the profiler could stand it. "In truth, I think of you often and wonder how I could better help you. Unfortunately, it seems I've failed tremendously."

Will was silent for a second and just as he was going to disagree, Hannibal rose to his feet.

"Abigail and Jack have been waiting for you to wake. I should get them."

"Wait, please," Will pleaded softly. "I don't want to see them yet. It's easier with you."

"Because I won't judge," Hannibal replied. "They won't think any less of you, and you'll have to see them eventually."

"But for right now, can you just sit with me?"

Hannibal moved to take his seat on the plush hospital chair. "Of course. This is your time, Will. I'll be here as long as you need."

Will hesitated to ask for something more. He pressed his lips in a thin line and swallowed the question as he stared out the window at the busy highway. And after a few seconds ticked by, he felt Hannibal's hand hold his.


	20. Chapter 20

_**You reviews are absolutely wonderful and amazing and I love them and cherish them!**_

_**~JM**_

**Anonymous asked you: Hi! If you're still taking prompts, there's something I haven't seen yet that I would love to read. Hannibal and Will are in an established relationship and Will knows all about Hannibal's less conventional hobbies. Will tells Hannibal he loves him sometimes, but he won't let Hannibal say it back because he believes Hannibal is incapable of love. Will is perfectly nice about it; he thinks Hannibal finds him interesting and desirable, but not that Hannibal's in love with him.**

Will's quiet when he get to Hannibal's house. He stands in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his jacket with his eyes fixed to the floor.

"I won't stay for dinner," the profiler says quietly.

Hannibal looks at him, observing him as he would a piece of art. "Are you feeling well?" A beat. "Or is it my cooking?" He asks with a slight knowing look.

Will sniffs and gives a sad little smile. "No, it's not your _cooking_. Maybe tomorrow." He turns his gaze up to look at Hannibal and for a brief second his eyes light up and he really smiles. "I just wanted to see you before I went back home."

Hannibal steps closer until there is less than a foot of space between them. He kisses Will, just a soft kiss that lasts no more than a second. "I don't suppose I could convince you to spend the night."

"I have to take care of the dogs." Will's hand slowly comes up to brush fingertips over clean-shaven jaw line and feels a strong hand rest on the small of his back to press him closer until hips are flush and they kiss again.

Will rocks up slightly on the balls of his feet to even the height difference and hums in content when Hannibal's free hand goes to card through wild curls.

"I love you," Will murmurs after he pulls back. But when Hannibal begins to reply, the profiler shakes his head. "Don't say it just because it's something I want to hear," he says with a sad smile.

"You still think I'm incapable of having affection?" Hannibal traces Will lower lip with his thumb. "Even with you?"

Will scrunches up his nose the way he often does at a particularly disappointing thought. "Maybe you do feel something toward me. Maybe you find me interesting or desirable like one of your fine dishes or a really brilliant work of art. At least I can inspire that much feeling."

Hannibal exhales slowly, long seconds ticking by as he places his hands to Will's hips. He staring down at the profiler, examining him the way he might a painting.

"Don't do that," Will pleads softly. He steps back. "I have to go. I have to—"

But Hannibal catches his hand as Will turns to leave. "The greatest disappointment is that I could say it a thousand times and you would never believe me."

Will looks down. "It wouldn't matter. I'd love whether you said it or not. Goodnight, Hannibal."

He steps forward and goes for another kiss before he leaves.


	21. Chapter 21

Feel free to leave prompts!

Anonymous asked you: Your fic are beautiful! Prompt: Will playing Goldberg variations of Bach so well that it makes Hannibal cry?

_Sorry this is so incredibly short. I wanted to do something different and wrote it in second person. If you guys absolutely hate it, I have no problem changing it to third. But I like second, hardly anyone uses it. Thanks for the compliment and prompt anon!_

_~JM_

You hesitate before your fingers touch the yellowed keys of Hannibal's harpsichord, trying to remember notes and chords that haven't interested you since freshman year in high school. But you remember Hannibal didn't pressure you into this, you willingly promised to give it a try. The both of you are just curious if you can remember that one piece. For a split second you almost regret telling the doctor you managed to learn Bach's Goldberg Variations .

Despite that nervous feeling in your stomach telling you that you'll offend Hannibal's sense of taste, you begin a few hesitant notes. It takes a moment but you begin to remember the way your fingers are suppose to move and you settle comfortably, confidently into piece. Your eyes close of their own volition as old memories come back like worn photographs in shoe boxes forgotten under the bed.

Your fingers realize that you've finished before you have. A slight flush creeps into your cheeks as you turn to face the doctor. And you're sure you did horribly. After all, you haven't touched a piano since you had to move the upright into the house. But you don't expect to see Hannibal lightly pressed his kerchief to the corner of his eye.

"Was I that bad?" You ask lightly even though there's a sinking feeling starting in the pit of your stomach.

Hannibal rises to his feet and claps softly as he gives a small bow. "Very well done, Will."


	22. Chapter 22

All the windows have iron grates and locks on the outside, and they either overlook an unkempt courtyard or a littered parking lot. But if one stands in the corner and presses their head against the wall, there is a clear view of one of the counselor's office window, right onto a quiet street with well maintain gardens on the divides.

That's where Hannibal finds Will. The profiler is dressed in a grey undershirt and sweatpants that are rolled at the waist. There are no drawstrings allowed and no shoes with laces. So Will stands in dull yellow hospital socks with the little grips at the bottom.

Hannibal's been coming every day at the same time since Will was admitted. The profiler's already relinquishing his viewpoint to another patient when Hannibal steps off the elevator.

They smile in greeting. It's a small thing, their smiles, bordering on sad. Hannibal looks almost crestfallen at the sight of Will with tired eyes and steadily increasing weight and muscle loss. But Will looks at Hannibal and his eyes light up, his shoulders straighten. He tries to smile but exhaustion is taking a toll and he can only manage the smallest upturn of the corners of his mouth.

Rules and regulations be damned, Hannibal puts a hand to the small of Will's back and kisses his cheek tenderly before he lays another kiss on the other's mouth.

They stay that way for a moment until an orderly clears his throat, and Hannibal pulls away. He doesn't want to have to leave early. Will leads them to a small table for two by the wall, well in view of the orderlies' station and he tries for a brighter smile but it's all the more depressing.

"What did you see when you were looking out at the therapist's window?"

"Nothing," Will says in a near whisper. "It's the same as always."

"No hallucinations then?"

"Unless you are, no." Will clears his throat. "I went up a level this morning," he says if only to change the subject. "I'll be able to call if you want."

Hannibal leans forward with his hands clasped on the table. "I would like that, Will."

"How are the dogs?"

"They're adjusting."

"Winston and Churchill are going to need their shots."

"I'm aware."

"And—"

"Will."

Will finds it odd to hear his name spoken so firmly. Here, it's as though he were a child or they would call "Mr. Graham".

"I'm sorry," the profiler murmurs. "Can we talk about you today?"

Hannibal exhales as he forces a small smile. "We can talk about whatever you want."


	23. Chapter 23

**Prompt: One could be Hannibal talking with his own psychiatrist about his relationship with Will and subtly (it is after all Hannibal) showing himself possessive. His therapist, who's also pretty smart, catches the behavior and pushes to find why it's there. Obviously Hannibal will get a little defensive at first, but then he'll admit that he finds Will more appealing than mere friendship, and that in spite of the conflicts that arise in him, he would like to develop a romantic relationship with him.**

"Do you find yourself attracted to Will Graham?" Bedelia asks without any hint of judgement as she sits with her notepad on her lap, ankles crossed.

Hannibal has his legs crossed and hands clasped on his knee as he tilts his head, regarding her. They are both closed books, each only able to read the cover of the other. It is one of the qualities he finds alluring about her.

"I ask because you seem to be…careful in keeping Graham wary of the FBI," she continued.

"Not the FBI but Agent Crawford," Hannibal corrects. "I am Will's friend and I know what working with Crawford will do to his mind. I see the depths to which he would push himself and the twisted path Crawford would guide him down, and I see no positive outcome for Will."

"Would you make one for him?"

"Of course," Hannibal answers with a small nod. "Jack would have Will push himself in a dark corner until he eventually hurts himself or someone else. I want nothing more than to provide an escape from the violent empathetic nature his work drives him to."

Bedelia nods as she settles back in her chair. "What you suggests sounds more than a feeling of friendship."

Hannibal narrows his gaze in thought for a second. "You believe I'm being possessive of Will."

"Passionately defensive would be my description."

"Kinder than possessive but implies the same."

"Which begs me to ask: are you attracted to Will Graham?"

Hannibal cocked his head slightly, taking a visible breath. "In what way? I certainly find his ability to connect attractive."

"Suppose you found him physically attractive. I would think that same ability makes it difficult to connect." A beat of silence. "Do you find him physically attractive?"

Hannibal is quite for several minutes, his gaze wandering out her window before he focuses back on his colleague. "I find that, despite any type of interest I admit to, any relationship I have with Will can only end disastrously."

"You can't know that. Would you attempt to pursue a romantic relationship if you knew he felt the same?"

"Yes," Hannibal answers. "Despite both our faults, I would."


	24. Chapter 24

It's three in the morning. Hannibal wakes, pulled from a dreamless sleep, not really knowing why until his hand drifts to the other side of the bed to find it uncomfortably cold. He sits up, ears registering the steady pounding of rain against the window, drumming on the roof. And he walks through the upper level of Will's house on bare feet and dressed in only a pair of cotton pajama bottoms. Dogs get up from their sleep to follow at his heels, a few are already whining and pacing near the top of the stairs to show their distress.

Hannibal can hear the rain beat loud and clear on the porch and the grating squeak of the door swinging slowly on its hinges. The doctor feels the pull of curiosity but refrains from calling Will's name. He's already certain his partner is not in the house, but any struggle would have easily woken him sooner. Another bout of sleepwalking then.

Lips pressed together in a vague display of apprehension, Hannibal grabs the closest shirt he can see. It's one of Will's college shirts that is well worn and permanently stained with oil. As he pulls it over his head, his eyes flick toward the window just as lightning cuts across the sky and Hannibal can just make out the blurred distant silhouette of Will wandering on the other side of the field. It looks like he's making his way into the surrounding woods, and Hannibal knows that in this weather and time of night he may not find Will until morning. So, he takes long strides toward the door after grabbing his coat and Will's and slipping on six hundred dollar loafers to run across the waterlogged field in a torrential downpour.

Magnus and Winston follow close by, barking and making a beeline toward Will. Lightning illuminate the sky again with a deafening clap of thunder that makes Hannibal think he's sat too close to the brass section of the orchestra. But he can see Will drenched in his undershirt and boxers. And the doctor jogs toward him to cut him off, a hand on the profiler's chest to stop him.

Will tries to keep pushing forward for a second before his mind seems to realize there's an outside force. His brain can't quite keep up the pretense of a dream and Will blinks rapidly as he shakes his head. Suddenly, he begins shivering and Hannibal drapes the coat over Will's shoulders and grabs his hand to lead him back to the house, but Will digs his heels in and roots himself to the spot.

"I did it again." Will has to yell because the rain is hammering the ground and the wind is shrieking louder than any banshee.

Hannibal still has Will's hand in his, and he doesn't reply but tries to pull him along. But Will's still half asleep and angry at himself and he won't admit it but the wind-driven rain lashing his skin feels purifying in a melancholy sort of way.

"You shouldn't be here," Will is saying though his words are being swallowed by the wind. "What if you were right? What if I made my own totem pole? I could hurt you—"

"Or yourself." Hannibal leans close to make sure his words are heard. "I'm less worried for my safety than yours."

He manages to get Will back to the house, near blinded by curtains of rain and using the dogs as guidance. The profiler collapses in the foyer, trembling violently and teeth chattering like a children's toy. Hannibal peels off own his coat before he removes Will's. He counts the dogs to make sure they're all there, just in case.

"I'm unstable," Will says as he looks up from his seat on the floor at the doctor. "You know that."

"I do," Hannibal replies easily as he removes both their shirts and makes a temporary pile of the floor.

"I feel like…like an atom about to be split."

"You're nothing so cataclysmic."

"Aren't I?" Will asked, brow furrowed and eyes narrowing. "I have the potential to do something _catastrophic_. Even you suggested I might."

Hannibal kneels. "I spoke in worry when I said you might hurt someone else. I believe that you are the greatest risk to yourself."

"I don't want you here," Will says with a hint of exasperation. "Not if you're only here to make sure I don't hurt myself."

Hannibal clasps his hands to either side of Will's face and kisses his forehead. "I'm not your babysitter, Will, but your partner. I assure you, any reason for my being here is partly selfish."

"This isn't any good…for either of us."

"Our definitions of 'good' vary."


	25. Chapter 25

**Anonymous asked you: Can you write something where Hannibal gets discovered by the police and decides to go into hiding, but before he goes makes the decision to drag will along with him?**

"Will, is Hannibal with you?" Alana is nearly breathless when she picks up the phone.

Will's brow furrows in confusion at the sound of urgency in her voice. He looks over to where the doctor is making breakfast, and he runs a hand through hair still damp from the shower.

"Yes, why? Is something wrong?" Will asks. "You and Jack called nearly twenty times. I was going to leave in a few—"

"Get away from him," Alana interrupts. "Will, do you hear me? Jack's on his way."

"Wh—"

"He's the Ripper," Alana tried to say, but Will never heard it.

There is a sharp pain in the profiler's right side, so intense he drops his phone where it breaks on the floor like so many puzzle pieces. He takes a step back with knees weak and feels the familiar warmth and solidity of Hannibal behind him. But when Will looks down, there was a knife buried deep into his side with Hannibal's hand grasping the handle.

Will's legs feel boneless as he tries to wrap his mind around the possibility of Hannibal doing such a thing. The only thing keeping him from falling is the strong, steady arm wrapped around his chest.

The doctor removed the blade with a sharp pain-filled cry from Will, and slowly lowers him to the floor. Will immediately rolls onto his side and tries to crawl away on hands and knees. But the floor is slick with his blood and it's hard with only one hand. He's trying to keep insides where they belong.

Hannibal kneels, careful of the growing pool of blood. "We only have a few minutes before Jack arrives so we'll say our goodbyes here."

Will presses himself back against the base cabinets even as he struggles to pull himself up by granite counter tops. But his hand is slippery with blood and he can only manage to get up on his knees. The pain and the blood loss is making his head swim.

"It's better this way," Hannibal continues. "It removes much of the suspicion from you."

Will doesn't say anything because he knows Hannibal's right and he's almost grateful. Even if Will was an accomplice, Jack is less likely to suspect if Hannibal almost managed to kill him. There's a stream of curses just waiting to be let loose on the tip of Will's tongue, but he doesn't say any of them.

Hannibal sniffs the air and frowns. "I've nicked the bowel. Do you think Jack thought to call for an ambulance? I'll call on my way out." He kisses Will quickly before he rises to his feet. "Keep pressure on that wound."

But Will doesn't. He grabs hold of Hannibal's shirt with both hands, drags himself to his feet while the doctor watches in mild curiosity.

"Liar," Will chokes out. His arms are wrapped around Hannibal's neck and he's leaning heavily on him because his legs just don't seem to want to work.

"You'll bleed out," Hannibal says. Despite himself, he's keeping pressure on the wound.

Their noses a paper thin distance apart, their mouths almost as close. And Will is suddenly faced with the shattering reality of just how dangerous that mouth is.

"You hate liars, you hypocrite," Will's head lolls to the side and his hands are slipping. Everything looks a little less bright.

Hannibal bares his teeth. For a brief second he almost looks like he's going to bite into Will's exposed jugular. But he doesn't. He puts a kiss there instead and he shifts his hold so that he's carrying the profiler in his arms.

Will bites back a cry at the seering pain in his side. He blinks and when his eyes open again, he's looking at the ceiling of an ambulance. Thoughts are slipping in and out like a needle with no thread. Will's just struggling to remain awake despite the dark edges creeping in his sight. He throws a hand over his eyes, blood cold now on his hands. He tries not to cry from the pain of it all because he doesn't need anyone to see how unraveled he is.

There are hands over his, warm familiar hands. And they're pulling away the hand from his face and pushing up his sleeve. Will's eyes fly open and tries to jerk his arm away but a strong hand holds it fast.

"I'm going to give you an anesthetic," Hannibal says as he cleans a spot on Will's forearm and slips in a needle before he places an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

"The others?" Will slurred as he listlessly looks around. "How? Did you…?"

"I don't care about their lives, Will. My only interest is to save yours."

"Should have left me." Will's eyes flutter close. "Jack…he'll find…"

"Considering I've just intercepted and stolen an ambulance, this does make it easier for him." Hannibal rolls up his sleeves and puts on sterile gloves. "Shall we begin?"


	26. Chapter 26

**I had a dream last night that gave me this prompt. Will is sleeping at Hannibal's house on the couch for some reason like having the comfort of Hannibal there while he sleeps. He has his nightmares and night sweats and goes into hannibal's room to wake him up. he touches his hand and Hannibal grabs it, half asleep, and pulls will into the bed and just wraps him in a strong, warm hug that makes will feel better and fall back asleep. just some fluff.**

I envy you and your dreams

~JM

He dreams mostly in smells and colors; deep reds and a metallic scent of blood. Will dreams in a cold sweat of Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, but more frighteningly of Hannibal.

He sees the good doctor encased in a black body bag that is quickly filling with his blood. But he's not dead. Hannibal's mouth moves with silent words as blood trickles from between his lips, down his nose, from his ears. An extra smile is carved on the doctor's throat.

Will sits up with his chest heaving as he sucks in large draughts of air. He's frightened even more by the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Even in the dark, it all feels wrong. The sheets are too soft, the air too clean. But then he remembers Hannibal let him take the guest room, both of them reluctant for Will to leave.

But the dream of Hannibal was so vivid and so stuck in his mind, it made Will's heart beat with painful apprehension and set in an unrelenting need to see the doctor. Maybe just a glimpse to make sure he was alright could help Will sleep better.

Will pads down the hall on bare feet and his cheeks flush because he feels like a child again, creeping down the hall toward his father's room.

But Hannibal's door is open and Will just stands in the doorway counting the seconds as he waits for Hannibal to move. He just wants movement as proof of life. It's agonizing, this waiting. Will silently moves forward and reaches out. He doesn't even manage to make contact before Hannibal's hand grabs his.

Will jumps, his face hot as Hannibal turns.

"I-" the profiler began, his voice is cracking on that one syllable.

He wants to explain, tell Hannibal that he's just there to make sure he was alright. But Hannibal's arms are reaching out to envelop him. Though Will is nearly drenched with sweat, Hannibal pulls him onto the bed and holds him close. Will grabs hold of the doctor's shirt and buries his nose in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in a scent that's vaguely similar to the smell on the air after a lightning strike. Will breaths it in almost reverently until he falls into a dreamless sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

AN: If you have a prompt for me, leave it in my inbox. I cannot keep up with the ones in the review section. If you _have_ sent a prompt to my inbox and I haven't filled it out then I'm sorry and I suck at writing.

Part II to Chapter 25

Will tries to pull himself from drug-fueled unconsciousness, but trying to maintain clarity is like trying to catch smoke in his hands. Thoughts are shifting, vibrating, spilling. He feels fluid. Memories that aren't quite his own seem to bleed together, bleed out. He's bleeding, ears are buzzing like a swarm of flies gathered around a corpse.

Eyes struggle to pry open to find the world is skewed and given a too bright edge. A hand that feels too heavy comes to rest on the side of his neck. A thumb brushes over stubbled jaw to leave a strange sensation on too sensitive skin. Will turns his blurred sight to see Hannibal sitting on the edge of the bed, and memories that he doesn't really want to remember claw their way up, demanding his attention and threatening to overwhelm him.

Turning his head, Will tries to gather his thoughts enough to form words but all he can do is focus on a blood bag hanging from an IV pole, and it feels like more than blood is being transferred by tube to vein. Will feels as if he has been taken apart and put back together. Frankenstein's monster.

"Will, look at me," Hannibal commands almost gently.

The profiler pulls his hand from beneath the doctor's before he struggles to sit up. The world spins wildly and he feels sick. But he keeps his eyes away from the other, choosing to focus out this strange bedroom window. He doesn't know this scenery; it's not like the woods of Wolf Trap and there are too many trees for it to be Baltimore. It feels like someone's taken a painting and put it before his eyes. The colors blend. He feels sick.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Will closes his eyes as if eyelids were barriers, dream catchers made of flesh. But nightmares are a constant now. "Don't say anything," he says slowly, voice rough and low from lack of use.

Hannibal stays quiet, doesn't speak or move even when Will takes the IV line from his arm, spilling blood on unfamiliar sheets.

"What did you take?" Will breathes as he tilts his head back. Inhale. Exhale. Gut churns at the thought of Hannibal's hands inside him, touching organs, choosing which best to grace his dinner table. But he remembers Hannibal's hands on him, soft and warm during the midnight hours. Lips make trails down.

Inhale. Exhale.

Hannibal's lips curl in the hint of a smile. "I assure you, everything is exactly where they should be."

Will opens his eyes and he wants to vomit. "Go to hell," he whispers as he stands. He's too drugged and too exasperated to put any malice in the words. He's taking limping steps to the door, blood seeping through the bandage on his bare torso like a visual aid to the throbbing pain.

He doesn't know where he's going, doesn't know where he is but he can't stand another second of being the focus of Hannibal's predatory stare. The smell of blood is overwhelming, but he can just see Hannibal small smile, eyes gleaming at the aroma. He's like the fox that smells prey. And Will feels like he's been skinned.

Off white walls are his support until his knees quiver and he lists dangerously. Hannibal is less than a foot away and his hand goes out to catch the profiler. But Will flinches violently at his touch, his voice near a growl when he says, "Don't touch me."

But Hannibal's still reaching out for him, pressing him back against the wall, fingers intertwined and hands pinned up above his head. Their noses are a paper thin distance from touching, but it feels like they are a chasm apart, a stab wound away from a lovely murder.

"Where are you going to go?" Hannibal whispers. There is the hint of a smile in his eyes when Will bares his teeth slightly and tries to push away. "You won't find a phone here. And you would never make it to town."

"I hate you," Will breathes, exhausted. He would have slid down to the floor if Hannibal wasn't supporting him.

Hannibal kisses Will's cheek softly, his breath warm on sensitive skin. He's smiling softly when he asks, "Would it make you feel better to hurt me too? One pain for another."

Will closes his eyes and forces himself to not be sick. His heart pounds painfully

in a too small ribcage, echoes in his ear like a drum. Breathing in, bleeding out.

"Let go," Will says in a near plea through clenched teeth. He swallows thickly. He only has on the pants from earlier and the bandage that's stained red. Hannibal feels too hot on bare skin, too rough. The profiler takes a steady breath in and his eyes go heavenward, tears well in the corners from sharp pain. For a brief moment, Hannibal's reminded of Saint Sebastian. Will is the epitome of art. He's the statue of David, the Archangel Michael. And here Hannibal stands, the modern Lucifer.

"Would you stab me like I've done you?" Hannibal asks, head inclined slightly in question.

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Will shakes his head slowly. His chest hurts like an explosion has just gone off because he loved him still, he really did. But after a moment he can't help but give a short manic laugh. "This is it, isn't it? The entirety of our _relationship_ was built on corpses and lies in the hopes that I would destroy myself and then what—become you?"

"Not destroy—evolve," Hannibal corrects. "For every person there is the opportunity to create a great murderer, be it a single crime or many. Your gift makes you unique in many ways. I was interested what ways your murders would transpire."

Will inhales slowly, breathes like there's not enough air to spare. Anger wells up in his chest but drowns in pain and betrayal. He's on the edge of that chasm, and he's ready to jump.

He slips his hand from the doctor's, fingers curling into a fist and he breathes in as he strikes as hard as he can. The aim is off with the drugs still coursing through his system, but the fist connects and the doctor's head snaps to the side. When he looks back at Will, blood runs down to his chin and he can't help but bare his teeth in reaction. But Hannibal takes a second, an inhale as he put his hands to either side of Will's face. The tip of his tongue runs along his bottom lip to wipe away blood.

Inhale. "I had hoped we would spend more time together," the doctor sighs with a tinge of regret. "The clocks have stopped now, our time is done."

"Turn yourself in," Will murmurs, grasping the doctor's forearms.

"No plea for your life, no 'if you loved me'?"

"No," Will says quietly as he looks down. "Either you'll kill me or you won't. But if you run, you'll be another body in the morgue. They'll make up names for you, put them on cheap newspaper headlines. They'll be commercialized second rate journalist labels; _Tattle Crime _titles. And maybe they'll remember you for awhile. Maybe they won't. "

"Would that bother you?"

A heartbeat of a pause. "Yes."

Before he can say any more, Hannibal has the profiler's back pressed to his chest, hand wrapped around his throat. Will feels like he's stepping into that chasm, plummeting. Legs jerk and hands grip tightly at forearms as air is cut off. Whole orchestras play nameless pieces in the backdrop of his mind with sounds so loud, he's overwhelmed. Tidal waves rise above his head, promising to drown him. And when darkness settles, he feels like a body drifting out to sea, cradled in gently lapping waves.

There's a voice that soft and too high-pitched for Hannibal. But it doesn't call his name. Will doesn't bother to open his eyes. He wants that soft peace of unconsciousness, but his eyelids are being opened and a blinding light flashes in his eyes.

"Will." It's Beverly's voice that Will recognizes. A hand touches his forehead. It's soft like a hum. She's calling his back to consciousness as his lids flutter. But he wants the keep them closed, doesn't want to look at anything lest it's all a dream.

Jack's voice calls him. It's loud and rough and holds a hint of fear. Will's lips moved with silent words. He wants to Jack he's ok, he's still alive.

"We're going to get you out of here," Katz promises. "You're going to be ok."

"Hannibal," Will coughs out, still not ready to open his eyes.

"He wasn't here," Jack answers. "There's just you and the ambulance parked in the back. We'll catch him though." He puts a hand on his profiler's shoulder. "You'll be alright, Will."


End file.
